


Convergence

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Baccano!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-24
Updated: 2008-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-25 04:59:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1632767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Graham Spector is pretty sure by now that he's got Ladd Russo's personality down, and so he knows Ladd Russo is not a patient man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Convergence

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Baccano! and the characters therein belong to the genius Ryohgo Narita. I meant no harm in writing this.   
>  Note: This takes in the first OVA, "Graham Spector's Love and Peace", picking up immediately after Graham meets Ladd for the first time.   
> A big thank you goes out to my fabulous beta karanguni! You are awesome! <3 
> 
> Written for Rush-That-Speaks

 

 

 

The dust kicks up around the broken blocks of concrete, thick and choking, but Graham inhales anyway, sucking down air. His body is on fire with pain and adrenaline, and he feels like the blood has turned to ice in his veins. His head throbs, his cock throbs.

Ladd Russo throws his head back and laughs, hoisting the shotgun onto his shoulder; his voice is harsh and loud, and the sound warms Graham's blood, thaws the pain at the back of his neck, makes his cock harden even more.

Graham stands, leaning on chunks of metal because he doesn't trust his knees. He tries to dust his jumpsuit off, but ends up wiping blood all over it instead. He doesn't know where his wrench is, and for the first time in a long while, he doesn't care.

"Your name," Graham says, stumbling forward on trembling legs. "I want to know your name."

Ladd Russo turns around, gun wobbling uncertainly on his shoulder, the barrel pressed against his neck. His smile is wide, wild, and his eyes glitter mischievously. Blood is still seeping from the wound on his side, but it's staunched now, and Graham realizes that the damage he inflicted was minimal. A quick glance further down, below the splash of red against white, and Graham smiles: the line of Ladd's immaculately pressed suit is ruined.

"You want to know my name? That means you admire me to a degree, then." Ladd grins, echoing Graham's words. He tosses the shotgun aside; it clatters loudly as it hits the metal and concrete, and the sound rings around the empty warehouse.

Graham nearly trips over a twisted sheet of metal, but Ladd is there to catch him, his large hands wrapping painfully around Graham's biceps, dragging him upward.

"But you hurt me," Ladd says, and there's a heavy silence which Graham aches to fill.

"Graham," he gasps, as Ladd shoves him up against the broken skeleton of an old car. "My name is Grahh _hngh_ —"

Ladd's touch is rough and unforgiving, but his lips are gentle against the curve of Graham's collarbone. His breath, hot and wet, tickles the hairs on Graham's neck. Ladd's fingers are rubbing against Graham's cock, through the thick, rough cloth of his jumpsuit, and when Ladd cups his hand and _squeezes_ , Graham sees stars. He hears a sound, distantly, and realizes he's moaning.

"You hurt me, Graham." Ladd says again, as he methodically shoves his leg between Graham's, forcing his knees further apart. Graham relents easily, gasping when Ladd presses against him. It hurts. He's so hard it _hurts_.

"If you hurt someone you admire, that means you don't understand the meaning of love." Ladd's voice is starting to lose its calm, movie-star quality. His breathing is more ragged now—just short, hot gasps in Graham's ear, mixed with a low, heady purr that makes Graham's toes curl in his boots. 

"Could it be you don't love me, Graham?" Ladd's voice has an edge now, feral and hungry, and he pulls away from Graham suddenly with fire in his eyes. "You want to hurt me? You can't hurt me. No one can hurt me."

Ladd rests his hand on Graham's shoulder, pressing down forcefully, and Graham collapses on his knees without resisting. He wasn't doing so well standing up, anyway. 

Graham doesn't make a habit of sucking cock—hell, he doesn't make a habit of socializing, period. But Ladd Russo is something else. Ladd Russo is the exception to the rule. Graham wants him so bad he can taste it.

"I'm going to kill you," Ladd says, watching with amusement as Graham reaches for him. The button on Ladd's trousers is made of brass, thick and bumpy under Graham's shaking fingers, but he finally gets it open and he shoves Ladd's pants down slightly, just enough to get his cock out.

Ladd Russo's cock is warm against Graham's fingers, and already hard, precome wetting the palm of his hand. Graham looks up suddenly to meet Ladd's eyes, as if asking for permission.

"I'm going to kill you, Graham," Ladd says, flashing his teeth in the parody of a smile. "I'm going to kill you when you least, _ah_ —" Graham's fingers are rough, slender, and his knuckles are bruised, so it hurts to press them into the base of Ladd's cock, just above his balls, but Graham does it anyway. "—when you least expect it."

Graham has seen a few pornos, so he knows that he should work up to the climax. He knows he should lick and nibble, draw it out, build the tension. But he's pretty sure by now that he's got Ladd Russo's personality down, and so he knows Ladd Russo is not a patient man. That doesn't bother him, because _he's_ hard, too, and there's no sense putting off what you can't finish now.

Graham takes Ladd's cock in his mouth, guiding it with his hand and moaning when he finally tastes Ladd, feels him pressing down against his tongue, filling his throat. Graham opens his mouth wider, and Ladd presses forward, forcing his cock down Graham's throat with a faint groan which melts into a satisfied purr as Graham gags and moans.

Ladd Russo smells like expensive cologne, the type you wear for special occasions — and this _is_ a special occasion now, isn't it? — and he smells like gunpowder and musk and blood.

"Hhh," Ladd moans and twines his fingers into Graham's soft, blond hair, pulling him forward more, groaning with pleasure when Graham's teeth inadvertently scrape against the base of his cock. Ladd rocks his hips, working his hands against Graham's scalp, kneading gently, until he finally has to lean slightly forward and brace himself against the car to prevent himself from falling. Graham's back presses against the metal shell and he shifts, rearranging his legs so he can palm his own cock.

"I'm—" Graham's other hand wanders and his fingers find the wound on Ladd's side, the blood half-coagulated but still wet, and when he presses his hand against it, Ladd moans and shivers and says, "I'm going to kill you."

And Graham thinks he could die right here, choking on Ladd Russo's cock, with the taste of salt on his tongue and the heat building at the back of his throat. With his own hand rubbing at the crotch of his jumpsuit, desperately, and his voice a thin, needy whine. He could die here, Graham thinks, and he wouldn't even care.

Ladd shudders, and digs his fingers into Graham's scalp so hard that for an instant Graham thinks that Ladd is going to crush his skull — wouldn't _that_ make for a nice ending? Such a sad story — but then the pressure eases as Ladd gasps and leans forward, both hands on the car now. Slipping, losing control.

Graham can feel the pulse of Ladd's cock and he moans when his mouth fills, sticky and salty, the taste trickling down his throat with a burn like gasoline. Ladd might be making sounds, but Graham doesn't know, doesn't care, because he's coming, too, and the blood is rushing in his ears so loud he can't hear a damn thing.

When it's all over Graham is in a daze, still unsure of exactly what's happened. Ladd is already buttoning and zipping and smoothing down his suit. Which is hilarious, Graham thinks, because although Ladd's cleaned up there's still a bloodstain on the side of his suit. And now there's a stain between Graham's legs, and blood on his fingers, dirt in his hair.

Graham's knees are weak and shaky, more now than ever before, but he manages to pull himself up with the help of the car. He looks up, finally, and meets Ladd's gaze, watches the other man's lips twitch and curve into a satisfied grin.

"My name is Ladd Russo."

Graham watches him leave in silence, the words caught in his throat and the taste of musk and salt still fresh on his tongue.

 


End file.
